


Breaking The Ice

by Ameiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Historical AU, Outlaw Queen Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameiko/pseuds/Ameiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina has come all of the way to England to get away from a scandalous past. She wasn't expecting that there just may be a little scandal working its way into her future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking The Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Trina-Deckers! It has been an honor to get to know you. You really are a wonderful person and you on my tumblr dash truly has been a gift. Also, a huge thanks needs to go to ModernlifeofAsh for betaing this.

Breaking the Ice

 

Regina watched the snow blowing across the park below her and unconsciously wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She hadn't expected England to be colder than Boston, but it certainly felt like it was. Then again, she hadn't given much thought to England at all when she'd boarded that ship. The destination hadn't mattered nearly as much as what she'd left behind. A gentle knock on the door behind her broke her musings, and Regina glanced over her shoulder to see Mrs. Jenkins standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands.

 

“Come in,” she beckoned as she seated herself behind the large mahogany desk.

 

“It's cold enough to freeze your bones right through, mum,” the elderly woman murmured as she poured a cup of tea and handed it to Regina. There were probably hundreds of tiny protocols that Mrs. Jenkins broke in a day, but there was something about the motherly warmth in her eyes that made her employer not care.

 

“Did Henry sneak away from Miss Blanchard again?” she asked, forcing her back ramrod straight just like her mother taught her. “It's been too quiet upstairs.”

 

The housekeeper sighed. “I haven't seen hide or hair of either of them today. Young Master Henry has probably found some grand adventure off in the unused rooms. I'm sure the boy is safe and sound.”

 

“Yes,” Regina agreed, pushing aside the kernel of doubt in her stomach, “you're probably right.”

 

But as the day went on, doubt blossomed into unease and then into a certain kind of dread. It was bad enough that Regina sought out the very last person at the manor she cared to speak to: Miss Blanchard. She was the kind of dreamy sort who didn't seem to realize that hope didn't overcome all obstacles, and that was the very thinking that Regina scoffed at the most. The nursemaid had never been a favorite of hers, but her son had always loved her. For a boy so small, Henry Mills had quite a sordid and rocky history—one that Regina liked to pretend didn't exist—and it wasn't fair to deny him a person who cared for him so tenderly no matter what her personal feelings were. Her invitation for Miss Blanchard had surprised them both actually. An uneasy truce had followed, and that was instantly tested as soon as Regina found her scurrying about the unused wing calling for her son.

 

“You have one—and only one—job in this household, please tell me you haven't forgotten that,” she snapped as she stopped just behind the nurse.

 

Miss Blanchard gave a little gasp and clasped a hand to her heart. “Mrs. Mills! I was just about to come find you.”

 

“I'm sure you were,” Regina agreed sarcastically. “How long has he been gone?”

 

“Not long...less than an hour. We were playing hide and seek after his math lesson, and this last time I just couldn't find him. Usually, as soon as I forfeit, he comes out laughing, but this time...” The nursemaid wrung her hands nervously. “I've looked in all of the unused rooms and even sent one of the chambermaids up to the attic.”

 

“What about the stables?”

 

The pair raced outside with neither woman taking so much as a moment to grab their coats. The old stable had been hastily converted to house Regina's car, but still looked as though there should be a dozen or more horses inside. To a boy of eight, the old building would seemed like an exciting place. There plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in and places to climb. She just prayed that he was tucked away in one of those spots right then. Calling his name into the darkened stable, her hope began to wane with every passing minute. Desperation led her to the ladder leading the hayloft. She yanked her fashionable skirt aside and climbed without so much as a thought to the kind of propriety her mother had spent years drilling into her. Unfortunately, aside from a large orange tom cat, the loft was empty.

 

“Mrs. Mills, I hear something outside!” Miss Blanchard called from below.

 

Racing down the rungs, Regina could hear a male voice from beyond the stable walls as well. It was that of a grown man, but aside from that she couldn't tell much else. The sight that greeted her just outside the stable door sent a shard of fear right through the very center of her heart. A man on horseback was clutching a soaking wet and deathly white Henry to his chest.

 

“I pulled him from the pond,” the stranger said as he handed him down to waiting women. “The lad was trying to skate and did not realize the ice was still too thin. I tried to warn him, but he went under.”

 

“I...I..I'm sorry, Mom,” Henry murmured through chattering teeth.

 

“Let's get you inside,” she said, kissing his icy forehead.

 

Regina pulled the boy against her. His skin was so cold that it actually hurt as it came into contact with her warm body. With practiced poise, she barked out orders to the scurrying servants as she led her son up the stairs. The poor boy was so cold that he didn't even fight her as she unbuttoned his shirt and stripped the soaking garment away. He let her dress him in his warmest night clothes and tuck him beneath his blankets while one of the maids folded an old fashioned bed warmer at his feet. Thankfully, his lips were regaining color, and he was no longer shaking so fiercely.

 

“I've put Mr. Locksley in the green room to warm himself, Mrs. Mills,” Mrs. Jenkins said, as she said as she set a steaming mug of broth and a bottle of tonic on the nightstand.

 

“Mr. Locksley?” Regina asked, blinking at the unfamiliar name.

 

“He pulled me out of the water,” Henry supplied. “The pond is his and so are the best woods for tramping—he told me so on the way here. He's very nice.”

 

“Once you've warmed up, you and I are going to have a very long talk about boundaries, young man,” she told her son with an exasperated sigh. “For now, you're going to drink your broth and take a spoonful of medicine before going to sleep.”

 

After kissing Henry once more and making sure that all of the blankets were wrapped tightly enough around him, Regina straightened her clothes and gave her appearance a quick check in the mirror. She hadn't met any of her neighbors yet. In fact, aside from the gentleman who handled her purchase of the manor, she hadn't met anyone outside of the household at all since they'd come to their new home. She'd assumed that once spring came, and she was better acquainted with the lie that she was preparing to live in this new country, she would venture out and be social again. Unlike back in Boston, here there would be no scandal for Henry to hang his head in shame beneath. Here she was Mrs. Regina Mills—respectable widow and mother. With her dignity firmly in place, she set out to meet Mr. Locksley.

 

The more she thought about her neighbor, the more she was certain she had heard something about him from Mrs. Jenkins. Her housekeeper knew every person within a hundred miles it seemed. Regina racked her brain furiously trying to remember exactly what she'd been told about him. Henry had said that he owned the land that both the pond and deep forest sat on, so it was safe to assume that the man wasn't poor. And then it hit her—Mrs. Jenkins often referred to him as “poor Robin Locksley.” She remembered the older woman telling her that it had been four years since Mrs. Locksley had died, leaving Mr. Locksley and their infant son behind. The man had been inconsolable since he'd lost his beloved wife and had turned every well-meaning matron and miss from his door. Regina was neither well-meaning nor a miss, but she did owe Mr. Locksley more than just a flimsy thank you and she knew it.

 

She knocked on the door lightly. “Come in,” a pleasant male voice called from the other side.

 

As soon as she opened it, Regina found that her breath was forced right out of her lungs. Mr. Locksley stood before the fire stripped down just his trousers and a blanket over his shoulders. The vast muscled plane of his chest was bare for her perusal and sight of it stole whatever thoughts had been in her head beforehand. It had been a long time since she'd seen something that tempted her so—not since Daniel all those years ago.

 

“Sorry!” Mr. Locksley cried as he wrapped the blanket fully around his chest. “Your groom was on his way to find me a dry shirt. I wasn't expecting you.”

 

She pushed aside her wayward thoughts and looked up at his face finally. He was younger and more handsome than she'd been expecting. With fair hair and a close cut beard, he reminded her of the hero in a picture she'd seen once. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, and were framed by dozens of tiny lines that looked to be more from experience than age. If he noticed how intently she was staring, he didn't acknowledge it.

 

“No need to be embarrassed,” Regina assured him. “You're lacking your clothes on my son's behalf. I came to thank you for that actually.”

 

Mr. Locksley smiled. “Well, it is one way to meet your more reluctant neighbors. I'm Robin Locksley.” He gave the best bow he could manage while still holding the blanket in place.

 

“Regina Mills. And you've obviously already met my son, Henry.” She couldn't help but returning his smile no matter how much she wanted to keep her iron mask in place. He was the antithesis of everything she had assumed about British men. There was something so genuine about Mr. Locksley that she couldn't help being drawn to him. If she was being honest with herself, he was a very dangerous man.

 

“Despite his penchant for half-frozen ponds, he's a delightful boy. He reminds me that I have many more years of Roland's mischief ahead of me,” he said. “I hope you won't be too hard on him.”

 

Like salt finding an unhealed wound, his words worked under her skin. “What I do with my son is no business of yours.”

 

“No,” he agreed, suddenly quite seriously. “It would just be a shame to ruin such spirit. Henry has his whole life to be a man and only such a short time to be a boy.”

 

“I'll keep that in mind.” Regina took a step toward the door.

 

She wasn't expecting how quickly he moved to grab her wrist, letting the blanket fall. His eyes locked with hers, and she was very aware of just how close he was. “I apologize. I wasn't trying to offend. I suppose as a father, I sometimes think my opinion matters much more than it really does.”

 

“Aren't you a rare breed? Not many men are willing to admit that.” Despite her discomfort, she let out a smoky laugh.

 

That smile reappeared. “And something tells me that you'd be more than willing to tell me when I'm out of line, even if I didn't admit it.”

 

He pulled her in swiftly and his lips came crashing against hers. They were soft and warm, but firm enough to lead her open her own. Her tongue sought out his of its own accord. Before she knew it she was wrapped tightly in his arms and her hands found her way into his hair. The kiss was brief but left them both gasping for air.

 

“I shouldn't have done that,” he whispered.

 

“No,” Regina agreed, “you shouldn't have.”

 

“But I won't say that I'm sorry, or that I shan't do it again. In fact, I mean to.”

 

Lifting her chin defiantly, she tried her to give the best withering glare she could manage. “And I suppose I don't have any say in that?”

 

“You do. More than you realize. The two of us are standing here staring at one another like two beggars in front of an entire feast. You can't tell me that you don't feel it too.” Crossing his arms across his chest, he quirked a brow at her, daring her to disagree.

 

“So we're both lonely. Don't read more into it than what it is,” she muttered petulantly. “You don't even know me.”

 

His grin widened. “That sounds like quite the challenge. I accept.”

 

 

 


End file.
